


Ella In Ashes

by beestung2025



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14041446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beestung2025/pseuds/beestung2025
Summary: With a future of ash and blood, Hermione Granger creates a new identity to survive after her best friends fall at the Battle of Hogwarts. While Magical Britain adjusts to their new sovereign, Hermione finds herself comfortable and to her biggest surprise, falling head over heels for a charming suitor. A retelling of Cinderella.





	1. Prologue/Chapter 1: The Fallen

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [AYearwithTomRiddle](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AYearwithTomRiddle) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Dark Cinderella AU. Bonus points if magical. Can be HEA or end darkly, whatever the writer prefers.

_The Battle Of Hogwarts, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 

It was Hell, she realized. If only she was exaggerating or had a God that she prayed to, but all she could do was keep running with Ron at her side. They had to save Ginny, if they could only get across the courtyard and back into the school.

Ron fell, blood spraying Hermione as a slicing hex caught him in the chest.

“RON! RON!” Hermione screamed, coming up short and diving on her best friend, her crush.

“My… Mione. No use.” Ron tried shaking his head, but his lips were turning blue and his pale skin clammy.

“No, I can help! I can!” Hermione started waving her wand but Ron gurgled up blood, the sight of which caused her to nearly drop her wand as the realization magic could not help this fatal wound. Tears formed unbearable pressure in her eyes as she tried desperately to keep them from spilling over. They were hidden amongst the rubble, having looked like they both had gone down.

“Find Gin. P...please. Save--” Ron’s last words were lost as his body fully slipped into shock. Hermione wanted desperately to stay with Ron, maybe even lay down her life to avenge him. But she couldn’t ignore his last request.

“Harry would have wanted the same thing.” Hermione cried softly, clutching her dying friend, the last of her two best friends with whom this war hinged on. All was lost, and Hermione was to save Ginny. They could run. She could teach her to live like a muggle. They could go to Canada! MACUSA had been issuing warnings about the muggles in America getting out of hand amongst themselves and warning witches and wizards of the potential danger. But first, Hermione reminded herself, she had to get to Ginny who had last been seen helping students escape through the tunnel behind the statue of the One-Eyed Witch. Hermione kissed Ron’s cooling forehead and pulled Harry’s cloak around herself. She had to get to Ginny.

With her wand spelled to point to Ginny, Hermione ran through the corridors. She passed rubble and bodies of students and faculty. Mrs. Norris was crying next to the body of Argus Filch, who died protecting the students he professed to hate. The small bodies of the eleven year old first years were crumpled, with Filch’s back shielding them. Hermione tried to pick up the cat in hopes to save her, but Mrs Norris fought like hell to get back to her lifelong companion. Hermione let her despite the constriction in her chest. Hermione had a duty to Gin. She had to find Ginny.

Hermione continued running and at hearing voices, turned to burst through the library doors. She found Madam Pince fighting side by side with Ginny, wands blazing as they protected each other. Hermione dashed forward to add her wand, but caught a Death Eater trying to sneak up behind the pair of fighters. Madam Pince was hit with a nasty hex, but continued fighting until the last opponent fled or fell. The librarian’s knees buckled.

“Go, girls. Please. Run as far away as you can.” The woman’s breathing was labored and Hermione immediately cast a stabilizing spell.

“There is a private floo in my office. I have a home at Rest and Be Thankful-- call for Pince cottage. Take what you need from there.”  The witch stood and straightened her hat, drawing her strength. “I must keep looking for students to floo out.” At Hermione’s nervous intake of breath Madam Pince continued, “You two are the only ones going to my home. I cannot keep you safe, but I can try to get you out. Miss Granger… you are much too thin, be sure to take food. You were always one of my favorite students. Go now, I must look for others.”

Hermione surprised the witch with a tight hug before grabbing Ginny’s hand and tugging her towards Madam Pince’s office. Her friend’s eyes had glazed over seeing Hermione covered in blood. There was only one explanation as to why only Hermione was rendezvousing with Ginny. She couldn’t think of that right now, neither of them could.


	2. An Unexpected Surprise

Hermione sighed as she sat in front of the mirror at Pince Cottage near a picturesque view in Scotland. Madam Pince never returned to her cottage, and Hermione closed the floo after a week of diminishing hope and rising tension. Hermione and Ginny discussed their options, and Ginny insisted they could lay low while they searched for other survivors that also needed to flee. Hermione was not optimistic they would find anyone, but understood her friend’s need bordering on an obsession, to be sure they didn’t leave anyone behind.

Hermione had taken Ginny to a muggle salon in London, after transfiguring their faces and applying subtle notice-me-not charms, a variation that Hermione had perfected while on the run that made their features forgettable. While Ginny was having her obnoxiously obvious red hair transformed with black dye and a perm, Hermione slipped out to a bank and surreptitiously withdrew money from the shell accounts that she and Harry had set up the summer after their fifth year. Harry had been so shaken after Sirius’s death-- no, she wasn’t going to go there.

Hermione turned her attention to the present and her hair once more. The most noticeable aspect of her appearance was the volume of her hair. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up with the amounts of Sleekeazy she’d had to dump on her hair before she left the cottage, in case anyone spotted her. She could brew her own Sleekeazy, Harry had found his grandfather’s notes in his vault and gifted them to her a couple summers ago when they’d all been cooped up in Grimmauld Place and hadn’t been actual fugitives then. But brewing her own hair potions was not practical all of the time, she had spells-- Ginny had tried more spells as well-- but all had failed to straighten her hair or only change it from bushy unmanageable mess to barely tamed wild curls. With an annoyed jab, Hermione aimed her wand at her hair.

“Glisseo” Hermione thought rudely, irritated at how obstinate her hair was. Hermione nearly fell out of her chair at the vanity table in surprise. Her hair had immediately become straight as a pin and without being so curly, it was so long!

“GIN! OH MY GOODNESS! GIN!!” Hermione shouted in surprise and glee. Ginny came running into the bedroom in alarm and stopped short at the ridiculous sight in front of her. Hermione Granger had straight hair falling gracefully to her mid back, and was giddily running her fingers through it.

“You did it!!” Ginny squealed in delight, hugging her friend. The two of them had become much closer after dealing with the aftermath of surviving and the nightmares that plagued them both, and were usually touching while in each other’s presence.

“It wasn’t a hair charm… it turns uneven stone smooth. It’s an architectural transfiguration spell.” Hermione blushed deeply at how desperately stubborn her hair was to only respond to the most rigorous of smoothing spells. Ginny laughed gaily, good humor sparkling her eyes. They promised themselves to live for their loved ones, and Ginny insisted that laughter was absolutely necessary to remember her family how they were before war devastated them all.

“Of course! It makes sense!” Crowed Ginny, in a perfect imitation of Fred and George’s good natured teasing. Hermione gave Ginny a look and rolled her eyes.

“No, really! Our physical attributes have magic in them just as much as the rest of us-- how else do you reckon that unusual traits go through families?” Ginny rolled her eyes back and Hermione who laughed at her friend’s black hair that only would hold a slight curl even with the muggle chemical treatment to curl her hair.

“So if I ever have kids, they’ll be blessed with my horrible hair? Great.” Hermione deflated a bit as she looked back into the mirror and continued stroking her hair. It was soft and so unlike the cloud of curls that had plagued her all of life. She was in awe of it, to be honest.

“Likely.” Ginny replied with a cheeky smile. “Are we still going to try the Alley today?” she asked with a little more hesitation.

“If you are still feeling ready to do so. We can go another day, Gin.” Hermione looked back at her.

“Yes. I’m ready when you are.” Ginny nodded firmly. “Let’s do some reconnaissance.”

  


Later, wearing robes they’d pilfered from Madam Pince’s closet, the two young women apparated to Diagon Alley. In the month following what was dubbed The Battle of Hogwarts, the Alley found itself rejuvenated with more forced determination and fear than any other reaction. The Dark Lord now ruled, and based on the back issues of the Daily Prophet they’d scrounged, Voldemort crowned himself King of Magical Britain in a lavish public ceremony, a week after the battle. Rapid change was being implemented-- changes that were very different than the massive death and destruction that had been promised with the lead up to the battle. Hermione was rather perplexed, but supposed that now Voldemort was truly in power, he would have to take an active role with ruling.

It was reported that many of the most violent Death Eaters perished in combat and others being dragged up in front of trials on whatever they could be charged with, along with any survivors that could be proven to have supported the Order. It seemed that unless the former Death Eaters could function in a normal society, they were killed. A caste system was put into place, with the most talented reclassified to Pureblood, regardless of heritage. Purebloods were now an elevated peerage class, and as many traditional customs were adopted immediately upon the crowning of their King. Hermione understood many of the sweeping and broad changes, even if she didn’t agree with all of them. The work being undertaken to rebuilt Hogwarts, she was surprised that was was pleased to read the coverage of-- she was rather put out that she missed her chance for NEWTs and attending the magical university that Voldemort was pushing to establish. She was pleased at the opening of the Ministry Archives into a public library. The new renaissance was disturbing in a sense, as to the horrific war and vicious final coup that brought it. It was also disturbing to Hermione that a few of Voldemort's changes were ones that she had fantasized for herself to possibly pioneer after the war.

Hermione and Ginny shopped seemingly aimlessly, having transfigured themselves to look like country witches in the city for a day of errands in the Alley. They picked up a fair amount of potions ingredients, having run through a lot of the stock at Pince Cottage while brewing polyjuice, as well as ingredients to make Hermione Sleekeazy-- a potion that was noticeably now unavailable in the beauty boutique that Ginny insisted they stop in. The Potter legacy was eradicated; the Prophet having covered the dismantling of the Potter Memorial in Godric’s Hollow. Gringotts was entirely repaired, and as they passed it, Ginny stopped dead in the middle of the street. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was **_open_ **.

Hermione tensed, immediately sensing the despair that overwhelmed her friend.

“Come, let’s go in.” Hermione took Ginny’s elbow and the two girls nervously entered the shop that was strangely empty compared to the hustle of Diagon Alley outside the door. A grunt issued from the clerk’s desk, where a painfully familiar red shock of hair was bowed over a parchment, idly marking something with a quill.

“Can I help you ladies find something?” A listless voice to their left asked, and Hermione met Fred Weasley’s eyes. Or rather, eye. A black leather patch covered the other. Ginny looked like she would cry and Hermione was not far off.

“Come in on a dare, have you? Get out.” Snarled George from the counter where he was working next to the register.

“No, it was not a dare.” Hermione’s voice trembled as she held tightly to Ginny’s hand. George’s eyes widened in surprise and then clearly he dismissed the thought, judging by the expressions on his face.

“Then what can we do for you?” Fred asked, suspiciously.

“Freddie…” Ginny’s other hand, the one not holding Hermione’s hostage in a death grip, reached out tentatively as she gazed up at her brother’s hard face that was taken in by the disguises that she and Hermione crafted.

“Gidget?” Fred’s voice cracked as he recognized his sister’s voice and the teary brown eyes that stared up at him, the rough calluses on her hand from years of playing Chaser. If he imagined red hair…

“Don’t, Fred.” George snapped, striding over and slamming the door behind them and locking it with a spell.

“Who are you.” George aimed his wand and the two girls, who clung to each other and stepped back at the aggression.

“Georgie…” Ginny began, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Our sister is dead. There is no way she survived.” George snarled. “We may have been let off at our trial with a ministry lien, but we won’t tolerate this shite.”

Fred was still looking in disbelief at Ginny. Gidget was a private name that only the twins called their sister, a portmanteau of ‘Girl’ and ‘Midget.’ The one eyed man was dumbstruck, and caught between fierce desire for it to be his sister and overwhelming dread it was a prank.

“George, Fred… please. We can go--” Hermione stammered, wishing desperately she hadn’t steered herself and Ginny in the shop.

“No.” Fred spoke up, finding his voice. George looked at him in surprise.

“You mean you believe this?” George asked his brother in a bitter undertone.

“She wasn’t found. They hunted. We searched. Two very important people disappeared. One of them had done it before.” Fred said, measuring his words while he studied the two young women clutching each at each other, one of them crying.

“Would you let me undo our glamours?” Hermione asked softly, smoothing down the black hair that Ginny was now sporting. Fred nodded immediately, whereas George was still suspicious. After a moment of hard scrutiny, George finally relented and nodded.

“Merlin’s bollocks, Hermione!” Fred laughed, relieved and picked up the petite witch, swinging her around. George eyed Ginny.

“Your hair is different still.” George noted the obvious. Ginny blushed nodded, tears still flowing. She reached for him and George swept his sister into a crushing hug.

“We didn’t know if anyone else made it out.” Ginny sobbed as George held his sister and Fred joined them. Hermione smiled as her own tears formed. The twins closed the shop, declaring that they would have lunch, and brought the girls to their flat above. There Angelina Johnson was washing dishes, dropping one in fear when she saw there were guests, relieved tears falling when she saw who the guests were. The quintet spent the afternoon detailing their survival, and caught up Hermione and Ginny on the political changes that weren’t covered by the press.

Angelina was very quiet, having moved in with the twins after her family was murdered before the battle. Hermione talked with her while the Weasley siblings cried over their lost family, yet rejoiced for having found each other. Angelina explained how the twin’s shop was now basically owned by the Ministry and that Voldemort was giving them innocuous side projects to work on. The reasoning was to retain magical skills and to acknowledge that Purebloods and the talented were now the ruling class. Angelina admitted she was surprised that they were left with the shop, but Hermione pointed out that it was a strategic political move. After all, the twins were very talented and popular innovators whose business flourished in dark and unstable times. Voldemort may have previously been consumed by the need to kill Harry and gain ultimate power, but Hermione was pained to admit that some of the changes he was implementing now that he was in power were not necessarily bad.

The afternoon was passed pleasantly and talk of the future came up. Hermione explained they had considered fleeing to North America, but seeing as Fred and George were alive and being monitored, she didn’t think that they would leave. Ginny boasted she had spent quite some time forging their new identity paperwork, and proudly showed off her handiwork. Fred and George let out shouts of laughter at their sister’s choice of ‘Jenny’ as her new name, which she hotly defended as being easy to remember and being able to explain away if she answered to ‘Ginny’ accidentally. To which they admitted she had a valid point. Hermione blushed when she was questioned as to what her new identity would be, answering that she would go by her middle name, Jean. Her grandmother had called her by her mother’s name so many times before she passed that it was second nature for Hermione to answer to it.

As for potential jobs they could take, Angelina suggested the newly created profession of ‘Hearth Witches.’ In the wake of the publicized betrayals by the Hogwarts house elves, Kreature, and Dobby, house elves were no longer being trusted without wizard supervision. Hearth Witches could sign a contract with a family, becoming in rank an extended family member. They would be employed as a highly respected manager of the family’s affairs from brewing or procuring potions and magical items needed to supervising any house elves in residence, as well as the magical needs of the family. Purebloods were eager to jump on the new trend as an easy way to show acceptance of and compliance with the new caste system. Talented witches and wizards were poised to retain or gain social stature with the new profession. The promise of social mobility on talent alone was a lovely prospect to Hermione, and she found herself rather intrigued. Plus, the title ‘Good or Goody’ as was being used in reference to a Hearth Witch was an antiquated reference of in-laws, truly showing the respect of being a part of a family. Upon debate, Hermione and Ginny both thought it was a good place to start when it came to supporting themselves. While Fred and George offered the girls jobs at the shop, everyone also knew it would draw too much attention.

And so a plan was formed: Angelina would accompany Hermione and Ginny to the Daily Prophet offices in three days to place advertisements for their services as Hearth Witches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note I am not working with a beta. All mistakes are mine. This is completely a work in progress and I'll be posting when I finish chapters. It will likely be a bit haphazard and I apologize now for that. I am however, completely committed to this story and wrapping up all of my other WIPs.
> 
> -Fred is alive! Yes! AUs are awesome like that. How did he survive? When the wall fell during the battle, it was Percy who was crushed, not Fred. The mystery of the eye patch remains; he did not get it during the battle. And yes, George is still missing his ear and is very very angry/suspicious (Can you blame him?).
> 
> -Voldemort is supposed to be a slightly different personality than the book, if you are wondering based on some of the policy changes I noted. Think of it as a return to his 'Tom Riddle, Head Boy' levels of sanity. The mystery of which remains (aka wait for it!).


	3. Behold The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a pretty dense chapter, but an important facet to the story so I kept it shorter than normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello my fair readers! I’ve unfortunately been unable to respond to comments without revealing who I am. Since this is an anon fest for a year, I will address them as needed in my end notes from now on ^.^ I adore all of the comments and please-- feel free to comment (or not!) as you please. Again: I cannot respond to comments directly for an anonymous fest so questions will be addressed in end notes!! 
> 
> Oh and because I just had to… my fantasy cast for this story:
> 
> Tom Marvolo Riddle: Christian Coulson  
> Hermione: Emma Watson  
> Fred & George: Marc Goldfinger  
> Ginny: Emma Stone  
> Voldemort: Ralph Fiennes  
> Angelina Johnson: Lupita Nyong’o  
> Daphne Greengrass: Sophie Turner  
> Astoria Greengrass: Imogen Poots  
> Lady Greengrass: Meg Ryan  
> Lord Greengrass: Eddie Izzard  
> Terry Boot: Eddie Redmayne

Hermione was grateful to open up the floo with incoming caller restriction, so that she and Ginny could floo to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Apparating is fine and dandy, but Hermione knew Ginny preferred to travel by fireplace or broom. Months ago while they were still on the run, Harry had put all of his possessions in Hermione’s beaded bag for safekeeping, so there was his Firebolt available but neither witch could bring themselves to use any of Harry’s belongings yet. At least both of them had achieved Apparition licenses the day before for their new aliases. They only needed a mild Confundus charm for the examiner when he began questioning on who Jenny Green and Jean Durand were and what families they were associated with. The apparition license was necessary for pursuing a Hearth Witch job. As it was, they had to forge and submit OWL and NEWT records, claiming they had done their education at Beauxbatons, to be fully qualified for the profession.

The girls flooed to Diagon Alley, picking up Angelina for their arranged trip to the Daily Prophet offices. Hermione cast her subtle notice-me-not charm on Angelina too, in case anyone recognized the striking dark skinned beauty that was known to be an associate of former members of the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione didn’t want to take any chances. The trio walked quickly over to the paper’s headquarters, further down Diagon Alley past Gringotts. The street was more crowded than their trip a few days prior, but the girls made their way into the offices with little fuss.

The application process seemed a tad convoluted to Hermione, but she assumed that most people were simply just that way in general. The girls presented their forged identification paperwork and credentials to the screening Ministry witch. Then they were asked to perform a short series of spells to check their skills. Only after that, were Ginny and Hermione allowed to fill out the Hearth Witch profiles, headed with their proficiency ranking from the screening Ministry witch. The profiles were published by the Daily Prophet in a new job advertising section devoted to Hearth Witches for a 2 galleon fee. The Twins, by way of Angelina, paid the fees in celebration of Hermione and Ginny applying for their first jobs.

Hermione breathed a large sigh of relief as they left the Daily Prophet offices. She felt that she and Ginny took a giant step forward in their recovery from the Battle. If Hermione were honest with herself, she’d realize that she hadn’t expected them to be ready to work for a few more months. Finding the Twins in addition to their care of each other, helped significantly. Hermione turned her head to say something to Ginny when a magically amplified voice stopped all movement in Diagon Alley. The terror was such that no one even dared scream.

“My loyal subjects, give your attention to your King!” The clear voice of Voldemort rang out. He was no longer a self-proclaimed lord, but a crowned king. The three witches turned towards a platform that finished assembling a scant 50 yards from them, as the being known as Voldemort ascended, followed by masked Death Eaters dragging a bedraggled and gagged Dolores Umbridge. Several other prisoners were corralled nearby. Muggleborns that had been sent to Azkaban for existing, Hermione realized bitterly.

“I have discovered treachery performed in my name, from the previous government and now in my rule! This half-blood, a blood purist herself seeking to claim what is not rightfully hers, buried research from the Department of Mysteries. The research was a four hundred year old study performed on squibs and their descendents. Let it be known: All Muggleborns are descended from Squibs. There is no crime in being descended from Squibs. Muggleborns are hereby granted their own status, no less magical than the rest of our population!” Voldemort paused for effect, and the crowd cheered. He was robed in a dark charcoal gray, his unearthly pale skin luminous in the sunshine. His crimson eyes scanned the crowd. Hermione looked down purposefully before any unintentional eye contact could be made.

“A grave wrong has been done to those we should seek out and bring back into our fold. Squib descendants that met other squib descendants produced muggleborns. Any killing of squib children is forbidden on pain of death, as will be orphaning them in the muggle world.” Again, Voldemort paused as this pronouncement, but did not receive the cheers from before. Instead there was intense whispering, as the caste most likely to have squibs as well as hurt them were the Purebloods that had been elevated to a peerage class. This new law was in direct opposition to long held beliefs, but was supported with a study by the most rigorous researchers in the magical community. Dolores Umbridge was shoved to the floor of the platform, on her knees before Voldemort.

“I pronounce this witch guilty of treason.” Voldemort slashed his wand-- the Elder wand, Hermione noticed with dread-- and cast the first Cruciatus curse. His motion was copied by the two Death Eaters that had been holding her captive. The screams and curses by the pink clothed witch were drowned out with cheering. Hermione looked around at the crowd, beside herself. She was no fan of Dolores Umbridge but to cheer at her torture that would lead to brain death? Hermione couldn’t stomach the idea and turned her head away from the vicious visual. Within 5 minutes, the cries and screams died down and eventually, there was nothing else to be had from the witch. Voldemort cast the killing curse on the limp body of Umbridge, before motioning for his Death Eaters to remove the body. Hermione trembled as the Muggleborns were pushed onto the stage by their own masked Death Eater handlers.

“The estate of Dolores Umbridge will be discharged to you all, the only Muggleborns that remained alive in custody. May this act of good will bring forth any Muggleborns that are still in hiding. You are welcome in this kingdom, and you will be safe. Your King decrees it.” Voldemort finished, facing the scared people that clung to each other on the platform. One timidly stepped forward and Hermione recognized the former Hufflepuff.

“Thank you, my Lord, our King.” The young man said reverently, kneeling and bowing his head in front of Voldemort.

“Rise. You are welcome. Take this chance and do better, Justin Finch-Fletchley.” Voldemort said enigmatically, maintaining eye contact with him. Justin blushed and stood, returning to his spot in the group of Muggleborns.

Voldemort turned again to the crowd in front of the platform, nodded before Apparating away, leaving his Death Eaters to deal with cleaning up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Durand: French last name, commonly meaning ‘steadfast;’ derived from Old French durant, meaning ‘to endure,’ ‘last’
> 
> Jenny Green: a play on ‘Jenny Greenteeth,’ a river hag in British folklore.
> 
> 2 galleons is approximately 12 USD or 10 GBP
> 
>  
> 
> Ella commented: “That's like the 5th Cinderella au for tomione!  
> Is Cinderella the most fitting fairy tale au for tomione? Why is it used so often? Is there no other fairy tale au that's fitting? I'm not complaining just curious.”
> 
> Honestly, I picked this prompt in the Year With Tom Riddle fest because the one I really wanted was already claimed and I felt confident I could write a 50k word story with this prompt as well, and bring (hopefully) a new spin to it. As for why it’s used so often--Cinderella is a trope that’s used frequently by fiction writers, both original and FF (regardless of ship or fandom). Other fairy tales are used as inspiration, but are harder to identify (though the Beauty and the Beast ones are pretty obvious yet tend to feature Volmione vs Tomione). A lot of what you see in fiction and especially fanfiction, is a reflection of what other influences are in the media. For example, this story has a pretty graphic school battle scene which was very much part of my visceral reaction to the recent Parkland, FL massacre in order to cope with my own feelings (which is also why in this story Hermione and Ginny opted not to go to North America, and I noted that MACUSA put out a warning on muggle behavior). Mermaids are very trendy at the moment in pop culture, and we now have more of the siren/mermaid AUs. Cinderella was recently redone in live action by Disney, and the release of Beauty and the Beast (with Emma Watson no less), brings back fairy tale AUs to the forefront. As for specifically Cinderella, the trope does lend itself easier than many of the other popular tales. I’ve found in the Tomione ship that there are more complex mythology references over fairy tales, as well as digging into historical and contemporary witchcraft. What really got me into writing Tomione fan fiction was wanting to see more stories and different storylines (I love a good time travel fic, but it is a heavily used trope in Tomione/Volmione stories-- though I have a few plunnies I play with that utilize some fun time travel theories). Should you desire new and different storylines in for Tomione/Volmione, I highly recommend joining us in writing Tomione (joooooin ussssss!).


	4. Brave New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaction to the King's appearance

Ginny had held tightly onto Hermione’s arm as the scene played out in front of them on the platform. Angelina, picking up on the distress emanating from the younger witches, deftly steered them into the Weasley’s shop rather than continuing their plan to be seen in Diagon Alley as their aliases. There were still errands to be run-- final details to secure for the aliases-- but everything fled from Hermione and Ginny’s minds.

 

“May I--ladies. Are you well?” Fred greeted them as Angelina led the trio in.

“Did you…?” Angelina asked, looking at Fred questioningly.

“We watched from the front window. George is upstairs.” Fred ushered them to the back room of the shop, where the stairs to their flat upstairs was located. The girls headed up the stairs, their limbs like lead.

George was slumped in one of the kitchen chairs, cradling a photograph that had been nicely framed-- a present from their mother after the family had visited Egypt and was reunited for one of the last few times. Smiling and waving at him were his brothers; Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, and Ron. Smiling and laughing were his parents and his sister. Dead. Only him and Fred and Ginny now; and Ginny could face a lot of danger if it were revealed who she really was and that she survived the Battle of Hogwarts.

Ginny waved Hermione and Angelina away-- she needed a private moment with her brother.

 

“Georgie?” Ginny whispered as she went up to him, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“We never had much, but we had each other Gidget. What are we supposed to do without family?” George sniffed heavily and wiped his eyes furiously, taking a long, shuddering breath.

“We survive, Georgie.” Ginny said, hugging her brother. The two embraced, then laughed over the faces their images in the moving magical photo were making.

 

Hermione went back downstairs with Angelina to give Ginny and George privacy, spoke quietly to Fred.

 

“You know, if I didn’t know any better Hermione, I’d think Old Moldypants knew you were alive and maybe fled the country.” Fred said enigmatically.

“Agreed, though I’d say he doesn’t know if we’ve left or not. I haven’t left the country since I was 14; the whole time I’ve been right here, not that anyone even knew where we were.” Hermione shrugged, a smile playing on her lips.

“It is the most likely scenario. We were questioned under veritaserum as to if we knew where you and Ginny had gone. Pretty much everyone has been accounted for by now. With the war over, the missing has been searched for by the Aurors. King’s way of trying to set the country to rights after his bloody war.” Fred finished darkly.

“I’m a little surprised the turn justice has taken since he was crowned. It’s much more… reasonable than I expected. I’m perplexed.” Hermione mused, looking out the window at the street which resumed normal traffic. 

Angelina responded, “The Prophet published his coronation speech. The King talked about returning the Isles to the glory of days past, or whatever. Here, I kept that copy of the Prophet around here…” Angelina rustled through a few drawers behind the counter. “Aha!”

 

Hermione took the proffered paper and read the article below the large portrait of Voldemort in his new royal robes. Voldemort eschewed the traditional red and ermine in signifying royalty in favor of silk green velvet trimmed in what was unequivocally lion’s mane, resplendent with silver thread and emeralds at the border of the two materials.The Elder wand rested loosely in his hand.

 

**_Victorious Lord Becomes King_ **

_ By Reginald Pobble _

_ Just one week after The Battle of Hogwarts where Lord Voldemort reigned victorious over the Second Wizarding War, magical Britain finally has a King again. Crowned in a glorious ceremony celebrating his victory and our shared magical heritage, King Voldemort gave a grand speech in which he outlined his plans and goals for the country he sacrificed everything for. The wizarding public will no doubt be elevated to new highs during our king’s everlasting reign, never to see the sun set upon our Empire again. _

**_“Magical citizens of the British Isles! Today, on this momentous day I have been crowned King. In the past, I have rewarded my followers for their hard work, and now I will grant glory and spread my generosity through the land._ **

**_For too long have we fought against each other. Too much magical blood spilled with too many deaths. This ends today!_ **

**_My submissive subjects, I will right the wrongs of the past administrations. No longer will incompetence succeed. The new currency of our society is talent-- the more talented a person is, the more valuable they are to our society. Hogwarts will no longer have sub-par teachers that are placed via nepotism, nor will Department Heads in the Ministry be incapable of performing their work. It is through talent that we see the purity of magic that is as crucially important as purity of lineage._ **

**_Together, we will create a stronger nation that will rise above all others. A nation that will rival the days of Merlin. With the inherent magic within each of us as magical beings, each of us is responsible for hard work and dedication to bring about the glory of which I speak. All who fight against will be held accountable for their deeds against our great magical nation._ **

**_The Dark and Light shall balance, bringing our country to its highest potential, outstripping all other societies..."_ **

_ For Coverage of the Hearth Witch Initiative see page 2-3 _

_ For Continuing Education Programs and Public Libraries see page 6 _

_ For the Slytherin University plans, Continued on page 11 _

  
  


Hermione thumbed through the noted sections then folded the paper up.

 

“And these plans, they’re for everyone, not just the pureblood lords and ladies now?” Hermione asked as she handed the paper back to Angelina who nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yes, and the Ministry Archive is going to be made open to the public as well-- you won’t be able to take anything out, like at the Hogwarts Library, but some things will be available for the librarians to copy for you.” Angelina informed Hermione excitedly, knowing the girl’s thirst for knowledge. “Some sections are protected by age lines, like during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. There are a few rooms you need to check your wand to get in to, and then even more restricted sections… I don’t want to know who gives out those. Probably Department Heads and the Minister…” Angelina trailed off thinking.

“Minister? But I thought we now have a King?” Hermione asked tentatively, brows furrowed.

“Oh! That!” Angelina’s face brightened immediately. “Well, Lucius Malfoy was installed as Minister, and a few other positions were filled with the King’s… followers… but a lot of them have been mostly busy prosecuting the Death Eaters that were just… scum.”

“And the others weren’t ever?” Hermione snorted inelegantly.

“Well, they can at least pretend they’re part of society. Fenrir Greyback was put down last week.” Angelina shuddered.

“I guess that’s true.” Hermione groused, torn between being pleased that Greyback could never carry out the awful things he said he would do to her, while she was captured at Malfoy Manor, and peeved that Lucius Malfoy the slippery bastard was still on top in the world.

“You know, they executed Bellatrix Lestrange first. For her un-sanctioned torture of you as an exonerated war criminal. That was the first thing he did, posthumously exonerate the students that fought. You… Ron and Harry,” Angelina paused with emotion at their lost friends’ names, “were cleared of charges against you, then the rest of the students and pretty much everyone that wasn’t Order of the Phoenix. Then they started going after the Death Eaters, the ones that weren’t from old families or were so crazy they couldn’t last in peacetime.” Angelina kicked her shoe on the floor.

Hermione gripped her arm tightly where slowly but surely she was healing the awful carving of “Mudblood” in her flesh, where Bellatrix slowly and cruelly drove her dagger…

“Anyways,” Angelina continued, breaking Hermione’s spiraling dark thoughts. “Here’s the copy of that. I kept it… well they used nicer pictures of you all. And I saved the issue where it was speculated that you took Ginny and disappeared again-- they threatened the boys at wandpoint to hand over a picture of you two looking happy.” Angelina sighed as she handed the papers over to Hermione, who looked over them dazed.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Angelina asked when Hermione hadn’t spoken after several minutes.

“She’s… she can’t hurt me anymore. None of them can.” Hermione’s lip trembled before bursting into tears, overwhelmed. Angelina rushed to comfort her friend.

“No, none of them can hurt you anymore, Hermione.” Angelina held Hermione as she wept bitterly for the friends she lost and the weight of the terror that constantly followed Hermione after her torture at Malfoy Manor.


	5. Snake In The Grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort's POV

Voldemort apparated to his private study, a grin splitting the grotesque visage that was his face. His private study was located in the new palace that he was having the finishing remodeling done. Slytherin Palace was the renovated and massively extended Riddle Estate, which had belonged to the Gaunts pior, and the Slytherins prior to that. Voldemort was simply rebuilding and updating all that his ancestors left for him. That those filthy muggles ended up with the land that was more magical than any other in Britain was maddening. It was a misconception that Stonehenge was stronger, because it was only through ritual and certain astronomical alignments that gave that area true power over magic. But the palace grounds were artfully restored now, wild magical flora overtaking where it had been killed and plucked and weeded by the idiotic ‘gardener’ his muggle family employed. No matter, it was his now. And he was restoring it to it’s rightful splendor.

It was not his palace or the inherent familiar magic that was being imbued into the walls from the earth by experienced spell casters, it was the petite witch with charmed, long brown hair that made him smile. The little witch with freckles and warm honey eyes that moved too quickly. Her black haired companion had no trace of glamors, but the hazel eyes stared wide-eyed in fright. He had found Hermione Granger and Ginerva Weasley. The third with them was a tall, dark skinned woman he knew was living with the Weasley twins. Those two tricksters were very difficult to get to comply. It took a dirty muggle method of digging his brother’s eye out with a spoon that got George to talk. George said everything he could think of, and yet, no one had any idea if the girls survived. It gave the twins hope because if they did survive, Ginny was with Hermione who would get them to safety. The Dark Lord, now King, took great pleasure in painfully drawing the memories from the Weasley boy.

He already knew that Ginerva Weasley was too weak to be of use to him-- he barely made it out of his diary Horcrux before Potter stupidly ruined that. But Hermione Granger, his locket whispered to both of them late at night as they slept. He knew her hopes, her fears, and her ambition. He knew her creative cruel streak she indulged in only for meting out justice, as she was capable of being judge, jury and executioner, just like his young self. In time, she could be molded. Molded to his desires. Bellatrix was woefully disappointing before he became incorporeal, and afterwards she was the only witch eager to join with him with this face. He breathed a sigh of relief when she was killed-- she tended to kill or maim any women he imperiused for his own pleasure. It was never anyone important; it was just rather irritating.

But Hermione, Hermione he knew would please him. She’d had such naughty dreams when wearing the locket, and he could feel her body responding to the emotions he sent through the horcrux when it was still intact. She would need delicate work, but she was already susceptible to him. He would come off as familiar, thanks to the unintended bond they shared when she wore his horcrux. He summarily blocked it out with Occlumency when Potter and the boy who wasn’t Potter were wearing it, though occasionally he’d craft a nightmare for them. He did need to have hobbies, or rather, that is the advice Severus was given when working too much. No one dared give _him_ such advice.

Severus, of course, was the royal potioneer and in charge of only Voldemort’s potions. Everyone else who lived or worked at the palace got theirs from the palace healers. It gave his trusted former spy an elevated position, close to him, yet with plenty of time for Severus to design his own potions garden and whatever made the man content. Voldemort felt Severus had earned it, killing Albus Dumbledore, and ensuring that the Brat-That-Died-Annoying-Him would return to Hogwarts and mount a final stand since trying to capture the three had been futile. Plus, Severus did brew the concoction that was helping him recall the fractured soul pieces that had been freed from their protective containers when each horcrux destroyed.

With the brew and cantrip that Severus and he worked on, Voldemort felt closer to his youthful self than his 71 years. Why, he barely felt a day over 25, though he was sure with the soul bonding ritual he was modifying he would be able to bind it all back together, and find a safer method of immortality. Giving himself a second lifetime was a good start. He just needed a willing, powerful witch to perform the soul bond with him. Unfortunately, due to the power disparity between himself and the average populace, almost any witch would certainly die in the attempt. A failure risked pulling all of his soul beyond the veil.

Voldemort listlessly drew a long finger across the desk checking for cleanliness. He wondered if Ginerva Weasley might make Severus happier. Severus was rather taken with red haired witches, why not give him his own pure blood pet, ripped from a Potter and never to be united again? Voldemort gave a sinister chuckle that filled the room. Perhaps, but he’d have to be careful if he wanted the Weasley twins to keep innovating the spells he needed in order to bind him own soul back together. Before he could even perform a soul bond, his soul needed to be more tightly bound. He’d only been through 3 of the 7 rituals, combined with taking Severus’s potion. That gave him back his presence of mind, mostly. He was still quick to anger and Lucius the fool, had even dared questioning his methods.

Hermione Granger felt safe enough to venture to Diagon Alley, had she not? Gleaned from Ginerva’s mind, Voldemort knew their new identities and that they’d just come from entering his hearth witch initiative program. Already, Hermione Granger was entering the web he was weaving for her; the web that would catch her. After the enjoyable torture of Rita Skeeter, he learned much more of Hermione’s darker, vindictive deeds that she hid from herself as whitewashed justice. But Skeeter saw, and she enlightened him as he tore through her memories, chuckling here and growling in others. This woman was fantastically cruel, but he could see how mutual the hate was between Skeeter and Hermione. In fact, in praise of her own creative method of torture with the least effort, Voldemort kept Skeeter in a jar on his windowsill. He felt it poetic to the relationship he and Hermione would embark on.

Hermione Granger may not know it yet, but she was his. He was king, now—he could scarcely believe it himself—in his rightful place. He required her, so she was his. Her power and will would ensure her to survive the bonding ritual, joining their souls so that his previous error with the horcruxes would be nullified, and Voldemort could compel her to apply her brain to achieving immortality. He had no doubt of her capability after how quickly she solved the clues he left on the Deathly Hallows. He purposefully lead the Golden Trio astray, mimicking the fool Dumbledore who always had such complex plans. As if he only employed one spy within the Order of the Phoenix. He lead a brilliant campaign of insanity and chaos, clinching his rule neatly at the prophesied end.

His soul coming back together gave him more sanity and strength, which certainly didn’t hurt as he had been highly unstable—brilliant as he’d always been, but still unstable at the time of the Battle of Hogwarts. The timeline for the ritualistic spells and potion taking were at regular intervals. His next treatment would be at the half moon in a week, and his soul would become more tighter, his body closer to human. He was less concerned about the humanity of his body when he was newly reborn. His cock worked and his flesh never felt as good as it did knowing what it was like to live without it. Now, he desired the former grace & beauty he was born to wield with deadly charm alongside his magic. As it was, he would need to glamour himself to woo his witch.  
  
He sought a queen that was destined to be his, who else could have possibly have otherwise belonged to him? He was going to need to use all of his cunning to catch and bind the Brightest Witch of Her Age before she noticed. However, he had to be patient as his pieces moved into place. Unlike sly Albus, Voldemort was Slytherin by blood and by right, and raised an unloved orphan muggle in a war zone. His malevolent tendencies kept him alive thus far, and thus far, he was still alive despite it all. What a glorious life he was to have now.


	6. The House of Greengrass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fantasy Casting:  
> TMR: Christian Coulson  
> Hermione: Emma Watson  
> Fred/George: Marc Goldfinger  
> Ginny: Emma Stone  
> Voldemort: Ralph Fiennes  
> Angelina Johnson: Lupita Nyong’o  
> Daphne Greengrass: Sophie Turner  
> Astoria Greengrass: Imogen Poots  
> Lady Greengrass: Meg Ryan  
> Lord Greengrass: Eddie Izzard  
> Terry Boot: Eddie Redmayne

Thankfully, with high proficiency ratings from the Ministry witch, Hermione and Ginny didn’t have to wait long before they were hired. Ginny received the first offer, and then several more piled in for the both of them over the next few days. Once sorted out, Hermione and Ginny ended up settling on the Boot family as a safe environment for Ginny. Despite being a member of Dumbledore’s Army, Terry Boot managed to stay alive and claimed familial ancestry to King Voldemort-- Terry was a descendant of the two orphaned pureblood boys who helped Isolt Gaunt Sayer build Ilvermony of Salem, Massachusetts. Voldemort, seeing a potential opportunity to monitor rumors about potential rebellion, gladly accepted and recognized the Boot family as being related in a familial bond thanks to Isolt Gaunt Sayer’s adoption of the Boot boys. Not that the Boot family was aware, they were merely thankful their boy thought to make the claim and that it was accepted. It gave them some status as well as protection, both of which were taken into a weighted consideration when deciding amongst the job offers. 

Both Hermione and Ginny felt that Ginny was the bigger target. She had been, afterall, the girlfriend of the Chosen One and the late Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. This alone made half of the hearth witch offers for Ginny to be tossed directly into the fire. The familiarity of Terry, as well as his steadfast nature and the camaraderie from participating in the DA together, made the House of Boot the only sane place for Ginny to go and safely have a life near her remaining brothers she refused to leave. As of now, it was the best outcome they could hope for and so Ginny accepted the reply and apparated to the nearest village to use the local owl post office. Hermione had a few offers she was considering, but the one she replied to that would be a community hearth witch for a small village as she liked the idea best, serving a community and helping many out instead of a single rich family. Unfortunately she was notified that the position was no longer available, despite responding quickly in acceptance. Hermione was thoroughly put out by it, and grumbled as Ginny left. She realized she was going to be incredibly lonely without Ginny near her side constantly, and redoubled her efforts sorting through the ridiculous amount of offers for her and her very high proficiency rating.

Hermione hemmed and hawed, organizing then reorganizing the offers differently. Finally, she simply tossed in the fire the ones she had no inclination for-- “House Malfoy formally requests the service of Hearthwitch Jean Durand”? They could kiss her arse! Like hell she would choose to work for them! Unfortunately, there weren’t a lot of attractive offers for her, because she had achieved such a high rating that the newly minted peerage class of Purebloods all wanted her for their households. The offer of work at the palace for King Voldemort with the other best hearth witches and wizards was also tossed in the fire, the magical paper burning black for a moment. It was such a quick change that Hermione didn’t notice it as the fire was it’s normal merry self with the temperature changing charm she cast on it. It provided the comfort of a burning fire but giving off cooler air instead of heat. She had the idea for a reversal of combustion after reading up on muggle science and physics, as she spent most of her summers catching up on the muggle schooling she would have had if she hadn’t been a witch. 

Humming, she plucked a random offer from one of the ‘acceptable’ pile, the best of her three sortings: the fire, ‘meh’, and ‘acceptable’. It was from the Lord and Lady Greengrass requesting tea with their two daughters to discuss the potential of Jean becoming the hearth witch for their elf-free home. They had freed their elves rather than risk displeasure of Voldemort’s posthumus persecution of Dobby and Kreature, both of whom died in the war protecting Harry. From what Hermione could remember, both daughters were blonde and Slytherin. Their views on blood supremacy wasn’t to grind it into your face like Malfoy, Hermione recalled. No, they simply outclassed anyone they encountered with perfect manners and those they did not care for were dismissed quickly. Hermione had preferred that tactic over others when it came to the bullying she faced from the Slytherins. She could work with the Greengrasses. They never really offended her, just looking on passively. Not pleasant, but disguised as Jean Durand, Hermione knew they would indeed try to treat her like family, particularly with her top level rating that signaled that she, Hermione, was their equal. Yes, she could do it. Hermione took out her quill and penned a reply. She tapped her wand as instructed on her invitation, and it disappeared-- promptly delivering her RSVP.

The following day was stressful for Hermione.   
  
“Ginny! I don’t know what to wear! They’re all fancy pure blooded and we’re having tea! Do you even know what one wears for tea?” Hermione bemoaned over their morning coffee while Ginny snickered.   
  
“You’ll be fine. There are some decent day robes in the closet. A nice, neutral set. You don’t have to go crazy, ‘Mione.”

“It just feels… ugh. I can’t believe I’m nervous about going to tea! It’s just tea.” Hermione continued.

“It is just tea, but it also your first interview with them. They’re not terrible, but they’re not good either. You will be fine. Calm down, it’s still breakfast. You don’t have to be there for hours. We’ll get you dressed just fine. And I’ll glamour your wand for you, the carvings on yours is very distinctive.” Ginny grinned.

And so it was, Hermione realized. She would likely need to get a new wand altogether, but with the restrictions now on wands-- all purchases are closely monitored by the Ministry. It would be odd for a new Hearth Witch to be purchasing a new wand. Hermione internally groaned. She could try to make herself a wand, but it wouldn’t be easy and collecting the right materials could take her some time. The glamour would have to do for now. “Thanks, Gin. That’s really smart. I’ll have to do something about it eventually, but charming it less distinctive is a perfect idea.” Hermione agreed.

Several hours later saw Hermione arriving at the requested destination and walking another mile to the front gates of the Greengrass Manor. It seemed like during the war everyone moved their apparition points farther away from their homes. The gate yielded to her, magicked to recognize a guest arriving between 13:00 to 13:15. Hermione admired the magic, runes and arithmancy numerals carved into the swirling iron design around two interlocked Gs that separated as the gate swung inward. The path to the house was a few hundred yards, and at her knock, the door was instantly opened by an excitable teen girl, a few years Hermione’s junior.

“Hello! You must be Jean. I’m Astoria, please do come in.” And so Hermione was deftly let into Greengrass Manor by the youngest daughter and ushered into the parlor for tea, where Lord and Lady Greengrass sat on opposite sides of the room and Daphne neatly on a love seat arranging the tea service.

“Oh hello, darling. What a sweet thing you are, and such lovely smooth hair! You must tell me how you do it!” Lady Greengrass was immediately upon her, air kissing each of Hermione’s cheeks and admiring the neat chingon that Ginny had helped her style. Hermione had to swallow her amusement at anyone thinking her hair was anything but bushy and a total mess.

“Ah, Lady Greengrass. How pleased I am to make your acquaintance.” Hermione returned the continental gesture, and was seated in a surprisingly comfortable antique chair. The family seemed to arrange themselves effortlessly around the room, but all watched her intensely. Hermione was about to start to panic after a long, awkward moment.

“Now, Ms Durand, we were forwarded your profile especially from the Prophet as the highest rated hearth witch on available for hire. We need a good and steady witch, someone who we could call family-- and trust with our family secrets.” Lord Greengrass tried to sound tough, but eventually settled for intense and forthright. Hermione appreciated the frankness. Some of the Slytherin mind games she was simply not up for every day. “I understand, Lord Greengrass. You are in need of a skilled witch who can mind her words.” Hermione smiled at him sincerely while the family continued to scrutinize her. Hermione felt a tinge of blush beginning to rise under such observation but suddenly everything was changed with a loud clap from Lord Greengrass as he leapt to his feet and began pacing.

“I like you, Ms Durand. I liked your profile. Your aura is clean and you look like a girl who can keep a secret. Good. Should you accept, our offer is $50,000 Galleons a year as well as room and board and a stipend for your uniform-- something like what you have on, a uh, lovely cobalt on you. Should have been a Ravenclaw with that complexion. Ah, yes, Stipend for uniform and whatever things you need to take care of our family, yes you are included. By accepting with a wand oath, you will be a Greengrass for life unless disowned. And we’d only do that if you killed one of us-- ha ha! Not to worry, it’s not tied to your employment with us, no! It’s so you keep the family secrets. Much easier with a wand oath than other options, don’t you think? Hmm?” Hermione now understood how Astoria could be so excitable whereas Daphne and their mother were very calmly sipping their tea, evidently used to Lord Greengrass’s rants. He stopped and pointed his wand at Hermione.

“What do you say, Ms Durand? Will you be a Greengrass?”


	7. New Lives

It was surprisingly easy for Hermione to say yes to the Greengrasses proposal. There wasn’t a ton for her to bother with outside of making hair tonics and beauty creams, as all three Ladies of the house desired to have Hermione’s clear complexion. Hermione dutifully made what she was asked, and easily found herself moving into the former carriage house on the Greengrass property. Close enough for her to monitor the gate and guests, as well as the family being able to stop by on a walk along the grounds or on their way out. Hermione suspected that the Greengrasses were rather lonely and uncomfortable without the constant presence of their former elves. Occasionally visitors and servants from other houses would arrive, and Hermione would escort them in, sending a Patronus to fetch the family.

Hermione was greatly relieved that the Greengrass girls had been entirely ignorant of Hermione Granger’s ability to cast a patronus, because the carefree otter made the girls proclaim that she (Jean) was smarter than the smartest student from Hogwarts (Hermione, herself). Using a patronus also made it much easier to communicate with the family and announce that a visitor had arrived for one of them. It was particularly awkward for her when Draco Malfoy came to visit, which was rather frequent as he was courting Astoria. He was so polite and kind to her, which gave Hermione a shock every time.

In all, Hermione rather liked her new job and new life. Ginny’s letters from Boot Hall were just as content-- happy with her work and seeing her friend & brothers once a week, as well as exchanging letters in between. The Greengrasses maintained a half dozen owls for the family’s use, which was particularly helpful. Her small cottage that used to be a carriage house was quite cozy, and she was able to transfigure some branches from nearby trees into plenty of bookcases. It was such a relief to feel like she had a home again, well technically she did. Or well, Hermione Granger owned her parent’s home and Jean Durand owned Madam Pince’s home as her niece from France who emigrated over after the war looking for a job and a chance to better her half-blood position with a sharp wand and sharper mind. It was the story at least, that Hermione told the obliviated inspector from the floo agency as to why a dead witch’s fireplace was still active. But owning property wasn’t like having her books all out, new references purchased and waiting to be read, that made the little cottage with her belongings inside feel like a home.

Her cottage was comforting, and very much her own little place in a world that instead of blood and ash was just… pleasant. Not enthralling, but generally pleasant enough for her to go about her daily business with a smile on her face, thinking about Ginny’s latest letter and which of the Greengrasses would be coming to her this evening asking for a head tonic. The lot of them had more headaches than the whole of Britain, though Hermione ruefully before scolding herself. The Greengrasses couldn’t do anything about it. They were the victims of a malediction, a blood curse. Lord Greengrass hadn’t joined the Death Eaters, nor had he apparently donated enough to their cause when both of their daughters fled the Battle of Hogwarts. After Daphne’s betrothed Vincent Crabbe died during the battle fighting for the Death Eaters, his father was violently angry and took his grief stricken anger out on the Greengrass family.

As Jean, not only was Hermione treating their symptoms, but also working to undo the curse itself. It was slow going, but her tonics were unparalleled as weeks turned into months, and she brewed cauldron after cauldron, experimenting and testing new theories in undoing a curse with a potion. She was still working out the arithmancy at this point, but it was promising and the Greengrass family was so thrilled they took her on a magical cruise for two weeks, seeing magical Egypt for the first time with her own eyes. Hermione desperately tried not to think of Ron, but instead of the happiness of the remaining Weasley’s being together. Hopefully the Greengrasses’ next surprise would be less unintentionally painful for her.

 

It was a week or two after Samhain when Hermione had a knock on her cottage door on a stormy evening. Thinking it one of the girls, who usually stopped by for a tonic before bed, Hermione answered the door, a smile ready on her face. Seeing a man she’d never seen before, Hermione gave a small squeal of fright as she jumped back and the stranger stepped out of the shadows. He was young, not much older than she was, Hermione guessed. It was an awful night to be out, but surprising that a stranger would be anywhere near the Greengrass grounds, but she supposed one could easily get lost trying to apparate in this weather. Or splinch themselves, she noted, as she saw a bloodied hand without any obvious injury except for a large portion of missing skin, blood dripping on her threshold. She should not refuse, not as the resident hearth witch or simply as a decent person.  
  
“Oh! You scared me! Your hand! Come in, come in, I’m the hearth witch.” Hermione stepped aside and waved the man in from the blustery cold and rain. He was soaked to the bone and shivering terribly, worrying Hermione. She cleaned the blood up after him, and stopped the bleeding with a quick “Episkey!”

“I saw the sign. Awfully nice of this family to share their witch.” The man spoke, a silken voice, smoothed over her. He was gorgeous. His voice was gorgeous. But he still was missing several layers of skin on his left hand, Hermione reminded herself.

“It is, but I would help you anyway sir. Here, please sit. I’ll get some essence of dittany and a pain potion.” Hermione lead him to one of her kitchen chairs, as she bustled over to another corner to get the potions. She made one that worked exactly like a several strong paracetamol, which worked wonders for the Greengrasses who didn’t want to be on some of the other pain control options for their malediction. After trying various options, they very much preferred Hermione’s improved headache treatment. She returned quickly gave him the vial of pain potion, as well as a blood replenisher that she thought to grab, before putting the jar of diluted essence of Dittany on the table and running to grab a bowl for soaking his poor hand.

“Here you go, just like that you can let out your breath now.” Hermione said as she eased the stranger’s hand into a large bowl filled with the essence of dittany so the potion could do it’s work. He hissed gently as the dittany set to work on his hand and Hermione fetched him another pain potion.

“Now, tell me, how did you come across such an injury?” Hermione asked, sitting down adjacent to him at the small square table.

“Not easily.” The man chuckled, a pleasant and warm sound. “I was flying home when I fell because of the wind.”

Hermione’s eyebrows hit her hairline. It was utterly dangerous outside and he’d been flying? No wonder he was soaked, Hermione thought, and twirled her wand to silently warm and dry him. He looked at her gratefully.

“I apparated mid-air and when I landed it seems that I left my glove and broom behind, as well as quite a bit of skin. I was simply lucky to see your cottage nearby.” The man smiled at her, and it threw her off guard with how handsome he was. It simply wasn’t fair, Hermione mused, how beautiful he looked peeking through a few loose, dark waves of hair. His clothes seemed quite nice as well, and she surmised he must be a pureblood.

“Indeed you were. Might I ask your name?” Hermione asked, still smiling.

“Thomas Reynard*, at your service, Miss.” Thomas grinned at her, reaching out with his right hand slightly awkwardly, which Hermione shook tentatively, an eye keeping watch on his left hand in the bowl to ensure that he kept it in there to continue the healing process..

“Mr. Reynard, how lovely to meet you properly. I’m Jean Durand.” Hermione giggled shyly and then felt rather stupid for it and blushed.

“Thank you for healing me so quickly. I doubt I would have been able to get home to care for myself. I did end up here on my first try to get home.” Thomas Reynard laughed. Hermione liked his laugh.

“You are welcome, Mr. Reynard. Anything for a fellow wizard.” Hermione smiled at him, feeling almost like she’d go blind if she looked at him too long, like the sun.

“Please, call me Thomas. After all, you’ve saved my life.” He beamed at her, not that she noticed it was purposeful. Thomas knew exactly how attractive this body used to be to the female sex. It was much more to his advantage now to mend his face permanently back to his early years, Voldemort mused while pinning her down with a flirtatious grin.

“Oh, it-- it was my duty. I was happy to do so.” Hermione blushed and Thomas knew this would not be a difficult game to start, and playing would be a _pleasure_.

“You need to soak your hand for at least an hour, and then you could use my fireplace if you like.” Hermione blushed again and looked away.

“Thank you. But I, uh, I don’t have anyone to call or a floo at my flat. Otherwise I wouldn’t have flown.” Thomas chuckled again and Hermione luxuriated in the sound. And that she noted that he didn’t have anyone, like a girlfriend or wife to floocall. It made her feel rather vengeful to be glad he had no one and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to like it or not.

“What got you into being a Hearth Witch? Isn’t it a new career?” Thomas abruptly changed the subject, refocusing his attention (and the conversation) on her.

“Yes, yes it is. A very new career, though I suppose general house witchery assistance by actual witches rather than only by house elves has always been in demand for the rich. It gives it a personal touch.” Hermione smiled coyly, repeating something she’d heard Lady Greengrass say to one of her socialite friends the other day.

“A very personal touch, I’d say.” Thomas grinned wryly.

 

Hermione spent most of the evening and well into the night talking with this former stranger, Thomas Reynard. He worked in the palace for the king as one of many servants, Hermione learned, and that he really loved to fly. After the storm abated, he thanked Hermione profusely for staying up with him and mending his hand so well. He took her hand in both of his, including his freshly healed hand, and kissed hers gently, his lips brushing her knuckles.

“May I write you, Jean?” Thomas asked as he made to take his leave.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: * Reynard the Fox is a medieval figure in Dutch, French, English and German fables. Anthropomorphic Trickster Fox.
> 
> MrsDarcy45: Ty! Reveal is on Dec 31st!


	8. Meanwhile at the Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know I totally failed at reaching 50k words in a year, but I'm rather invested in this one now and want to see it through. Here's the next chapter. A little short, but the non Hermione chapters are.
> 
> Enjoy! Comment/Review because it's not anonymous anymore and I can't muck it up lol.

Leaving the little cottage at the edge of the Greengrass estate, Voldemort walked away in the wind and rain and turned on the spot. He apparated to his personal apparition point that was keyed to him and select persons he desired to have such access to his personal apartments in the palace. Letting his glamour drop, he threw back his head and laughed cruelly. Hermione Granger was already half in love with a beautiful stranger that had so desperately needed her help. He congratulated himself on being truly convincing, using the planned self-mutilation for potions ingredients to meet his beloved properly for the first time. Neither of them used their real names, but what was a few truths when they would soon share the most intimate of magical bonds?   
  
He’d passively tracked her work with the Greengrass family through the suitor of the youngest daughter, Draco Malfoy. The boy subjected himself to routine legilimency as a Captain of the King’s Royal Guard. In his coronation speech, Voldemort promised not to use the Auror force except for seeking those actively breaking the law. Persecution based on the branch of magic one practiced was no longer tolerated, and instead the law only was to be upheld. So Voldemort created the Royal Guard and recruited the best of the former Death Eaters for his own private force of guards and enforcers. However, not all of the Guard were former Death Eaters. In fact, the Royal Guard saw a few transfer applications from the Aurors, as well as a it immediately becoming popular career choice for a talented witch or wizard who had little interest in being a hearth witch. 

Draco was a good sort to Captain the force stationed at the palace. The young man’s memories were extremely detailed, as he had been trained for several years now to be Voldemort’s eyes and ears amongst populations the now King could not previously walk through. The boy had been incredibly useful in Hogwarts, and now he was useful in his new role, spying on the Hearth Witch Durand. With the knowledge she’d turned down the palace and House Malfoy, Draco who’d always coveted what he could never have, he kept an eye on her and why she may have chosen the Greengrass family over other more lucrative and/or socially profitably positions. Now, at least temporarily, Voldemort had his Thomas face again as a reliable glamour he’d crafted for wooing the hardworking witch.    
  
Hermione Granger, as expected, was thoroughly disarmed and receptive towards him thanks to the latent bond with his former locket horcrux. Despite his soul was more tightly bound, he could still feel the piece calling to her, whispering the way he used to at night in her dreams. He was surprisingly receptive to the shy way Hermione Granger spoke the name. Thomas she called him, just as he had introduced himself. She did not call him Tom, not even once. He bloody despised ‘Tom’ and everyone had called him that, despite him preferring Thomas. He always had. It was nothing compared to his true name, but Thomas was decent. Tom was puerile and muggle and as pathetic as his mother. Yet, Hermione’s voice caressed the name as he preferred it, the way she would eventually caress his body with her delicate hands. They had been so small within his own, when he took his first taste of her, kissing her knuckles. Soon, he willed to himself. He would have her soon. Voldemort looked at the clock in the corner. He wouldn’t have time to indulge himself further, he thought, sighing. He needed to meet with Severus and deliver the potions ingredients-- plenty of flesh and blood harvested for the rest of the potions they’d finalized the last preparations for. It wouldn’t be too much longer until he would be ready for the final ritual, for which he’d need a willing human sacrifice which would be quite easy. Many of the prisoners would gladly give up their life if they would be allowed to die; Voldemort did not forsee a problem to be had. After the final ritual, it would just be a matter of the final soul bond, after all seven of the rituals that he worked on, in connection with the revolutionary brewing Severus was concocting. Not much longer, only months, weeks at that. Perhaps they’d be ready in time for Christmas. Voldemort left his chambers and took the corridor that lead him towards the more secluded palace staff rooms.

Severus Snape was never awake during the day anymore, preferring the night when no one aside from Voldemort would or could bother him. He had a few familiar spaces he set up for himself-- a laboratory, a greenhouse full of ingredients where he could grow and harvest exactly as he preferred, and his personal chambers. Voldemort never cared to draw Severus into the rest of his legion; the man preferred his solitude and always had. Voldemort could have predicted how his infatuation with Lily Evans would have played out prior to its occurrence. They were oil and water, even with the unending devotion Severus squandered on the ungrateful woman. Even so, Severus was ever loyal to Voldemort, his King, who always delivered on his promises. 

The last promise was that he’d see Severus through hell for doubting him, and then elevate him beyond the rest if he succeeded. Snape did, and was so ensconced exactly as he pleased. Had Severus wanted to be Minister of Magic, Voldemort would have even dispatched Lucius, despite how dreadfully useful he was as Minister. No, Severus desired to be left alone and that was exactly what Voldemort granted him, as well as access to a variety of prisoners and ladies of employment at the palace for any indication the man wanted anything to do with another human. Aside from taking a former student from the dungeons to act as an assistant, Severus wanted decidedly as little contact as possible. This was as close to his past life that Severus got, choosing a loony girl to act as a secretary when anyone came calling so that no one ever knew if their message was passed on or not and always left extremely irritated. Not that many attempted to engage Severus. Occasionally Lucius would try to lure the man out, or Draco try to have a drink with his godfather, but Severus was not all that keen to have any company at all.   
  
Voldemort knocked on the shrouded entrance to the Potion Master’s chambers. The door creaked open and Severus’s rich baritone called out “Enter, your grace.”   
  
“Severus, my most loyal subject. Would you not care to retake the name Prince and expunge your mother’s mistakes? For what do you wait? What can I provide you, Severus, that I have not already?”   
  
“As ever, your grace, I am your most loyal subject. You have provided everything I’ve asked for. And things I have not.” Severus Snape’s voice dripped with sarcasm at the end, making clear he knew exactly how free he was within the palace walls. Voldemort thinned out his ranks so that only the truly deserving had access to the harem of witches and wizards available at the palace.   
  
“Ah yes, but you have your assistant now, do you not? However I think you selected her on her ability to irritate everyone around her.” Voldemort laughed, the pitch deepening over the past year as they knitted his soul back together. Physically, he was returning towards his original body, and mentally he was re-focusing as well. In all, seven horcruxes  may not have been the best of plans or executions, but the job was done and he was on top. Who was he to complain? King, that’s who he was.   
  
“I did select Ms Lovegood for that reason. She’s also ignored for the same reasons, giving her a valuable position to me. For now, she attends any day time duties and then I train her in the mind arts in the evening. She’s coming along splendidly.” Severus replied, looking up from the ancient tome he was researching.

Voldemort sighed internally. He had hoped Severus would want to have all the things he’d been denied due to his first fall, and then the constant guilting by Dumbledore. Instead, he seemed to be retreating further. Once Hermione was secured by his side, Voldemort planned on asking her to look after the man. He wasn’t particularly gifted with solving grief or other feelings he didn’t have. He wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with Severus, to be honest. The man kept producing the highest quality of revolutionary potions as they worked on mending the fractures of his soul. It was rather exhausting work; the first rituals calling back the scattered pieces that the so called ‘Golden Trio’ released at random over Britain. Now he was so close to his prize-- he would have Hermione Granger and she would cement his soul back together with her own. A small price to pay for her hand in attempting to kill his soul in addition to his body.

  
“If that is your desire, Severus. It is done, by the way. Flesh and blood willinging separated under the Samhain sky.” Voldemort pulled a squishy package from his pocket and put it on Snape’s desk. Severus wrinkled his overly large nose.

  
“Ms Lovegood, please secure the King’s ingredients.” Severus spoke towards another room, where a petite blonde girl with wide blue eyes came walking almost absently.    
  
“Preservation or Stasis?” Luna’s airy voice asked.   
  
“For this, stasis. Anything that needs fresh blood should be put in stasis; preservation merely preserves, Ms Lovegood.” Snape stated, not bothering to look at her. Luna Lovegood was, for better or worse, looking alright. Since Severus took her from the Malfoy Dungeons where she’d been all but forgotten after her father was murdered for losing Harry Potter when he’d had him in his home. That was before the end of the war, and it seemed that she was simply forgotten at the dungeons that were no longer in headquarters. She didn’t regret giving up her opportunity for freedom by Harry Potter’s house elf, insisting Mr Ollivander go instead. When she found out he’d been heavily rewarded for damages suffered during war and that he’d been elevated to the Royal Wand Maker of The United Isles, she was extra happy. She had felt it in her very being that he would have died had she not given up her freedom for him. And Luna rather liked Professor Snape, or Mr Snape ask he asked her to call him. Mr. Snape wasn’t kind, he was still gruff, but he’d never been mean to her like well, he had to the Gryffindors. Even when he was her professor, he valued her insights into potion making. Her mother had been quite the inventor. She’d worked with potions as well, and Mr. Snape could appreciate her mother’s more earthy brilliance. Luna was perpetually in the clouds, her mother had always said. Luna refused that there was only one way to look at things. How she chose to look at things now was nice-- her mother’s old friend took her from the Malfoy Dungeons at his earliest opportunity and now she assisted him. She was learning so much from him; grateful to have the opportunity of something akin to an apprenticeship, even if she was more a personal assistant than anything. She managed his day book just fine. He said he didn’t want to see anyone, and to tell people to go away. Or sometimes other more rude things. So Luna would make up fun and lovely excuses that amused her, and when Mr. Snape heard, he was amused they were annoyed. It was a symbiotic relationship of sorts. They looked after one another.

Luna could feel a pressure in the back of her head, much like when Mr. Snape and she practiced mind arts except she was not looking at him. She was…

“Is there something I should let you know, Your Grace?” Luna asked politely, as if he had inquired about the weather.

“What a cute pet you have, Severus.” Voldemort grinned and looked at Snape lounging at his desk.

“I told you, she’s coming along well in her studies.” Severus said, folding his hands and sounding a tad smug.

“Indeed she is. Good work, Ms Lovegood. Keep looking after Severus for me, will you?” Voldemort asked Luna, looking down at the petite blonde.

“Yes, sir. I mean, Your Grace.” Luna blushed and ducked out of the room with the squishy package from Snape’s desk. Luna carried the package to the She wasn’t sure how she felt about being referred to as a pet, but she knew it was less about her and more about Mr. Snape. Now she knew that she wasn’t the only one concerned about Mr. Snape’s wellbeing. That she was certain of.


	9. Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to let you guys know I'm updating the rating-- I had started with NR, but this is going to end up being pretty darn E by the end with how it's coming together in the details. This chapter still falls within NR, but it's going to start getting darker after this one.

Hermione Granger was starting to wonder why her life went from one life-threatening situation after another to suddenly rather lush. She had her own cottage on the Greengrass Estate. On Samhain night a month ago she met the most wonderful man who was intelligent and witty, despite the temporary idiocy to fly in the bad storm they’d had that night. Why, Thomas Reynard had taken her out on dates over a dozen times-- at least once or twice a week he’d treat her to all sorts of wonderful experiences. He’d even gone to Lord and Lady Greengrass to announce his intentions to officially court their Hearth Witch, as with no blood family of her own, the Greengrasses by contract were her magical family. Hermione felt it unnecessary, but rather sweet that her boyfriend wanted to have her family’s blessing. Lord Greengrass had been excited as if she were his own daughter, while Lady Greengrass was much more subtle in her pleasure. Daphne let slip that her mother felt it’d be a very advantageous move for Jean to get married, especially to one of the palace staff, as everyone who was anyone knew that only the most proficient in magic were employed by the King. The stipulation for becoming reclassified thanks to talent was that they would become their own House/Family line that was distinct from any former family. Hermione was not sure how she felt about having to give up part of her identity for social mobility. She did suppose there were more instances of that than choosing to keep the family they were from. It was rather frustrating that her employers (albeit friendly and who did treat her as family) knew before she did that Thomas was surprising her with a late November trip to America.

“I’m sorry, Jean…” Thomas said softly rubbing the back of his head ruefully. “I wanted to surprise you and wanted to be sure you could go-- you’re not mad, are you?” He looked at her with a ‘puppy dog eyes’ expression that Draco’s memories showed to be very effective on women. Voldemort had never needed to be very apologetic in his youth and was very unaccustomed to it now.

Hermione’s heart melted in an instant. How could she stay mad at that beautiful face? The man was too handsome for his own good, and Hermione loved how he valued her thoughts and opinions over anything else. It was such a relief to have someone close that she could talk to at length about random magical topics and not only have them understand what she was talking about, but had their own thoughts & opinions to share. Though lately their debates had ended with more physical than emotional passion. Not that Hermione was complaining at all.

Thomas on the other hand, thoroughly enjoyed that when he was done conversing with her he could instantly shut her up with a kiss; frequently he took more than just one. She was delectable and the physical contact with her was better than with anyone else he tasted, being someone who’d held parts of his soul. The latent bond from Hermione’s emotional outpouring into the locket horcrux while she wore it was finally reawakening fully, now that he’d spent enough time with her drinking up the energy Hermione constantly threw out with her aura. The girl had no idea she did it; the most powerful learn to contain it and he would teach her once he could reveal his public side to her after their bonding. After checking several almanacs and making his own arthimatic deductions, he decided for mid-winter on his birthday December 31st. While they were away his court would announce a ball for all of the eligible maidens in the United Magical Isles. 

The hope was that a Royal ball would boost courtship that would lead to marriages, many old contracts having been nulled by the war and death. More marriages would lead to more children, more children to a healthy population. Their population was dipping too low to be healthy, and there had been a steep decline in births since Grindlewald’s rise. The generation between Gindlewald and Voldemort’s reigns was not large enough of a baby boom to make up the difference. Voldemort was dedicated to seeing the ball scheme through, as that would be when he would take Hermione from the Greengrasses and reveal his true self after their bonding. It’d been Severus Snape’s assistant, the Lovegood girl who’d come up with the idea when Severus and he had been discussing the population decline. Severus himself thought the logic wasn’t terribly off, having chaperoned his share of balls at Hogwarts. Voldemort set Narcissa Malfoy to planning the event. Keeping Hermione away from the announcement day would allow him to time to woo her, and invite her to the event seemingly before it was announced.

“Of course I’m not angry. I just am not used to others knowing my business before me.” Hermione blushed and looked away from Thomas’s gaze. He kissed her cheek, and slowly kissed his way to her mouth. Kissing her hadn’t gotten old in the month he’d courted her as Jean Durand. He hoped it wouldn’t get old anytime soon as he would be very much stuck with her after their soul bond, and he couldn’t just kill her when he got bored with her. Luckily, Hermione was very entertaining to Voldemort in many ways.

“I promise not to make that mistake again.” Thomas whispered to her as he kissed her.

“It’s not that I don’t like surprises, but only a few months ago they were strangers to me.” Hermione admitted quietly between the light kisses Thomas continued to pepper her with. Hermione giggled.

“I understand, Jean. Let’s not quarrel, America is waiting for us!” Thomas kissed Hermione lingeringly, and held her gaze as they parted, her kiss swollen lips looking very becoming on her.

“Let’s!” Hermione grinned and with a pop, they were aparated to the Ministry of Magic Atrium, where they then took the international floo to MACUSA, the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Hermione had never crossed the Atlantic before, and couldn’t help herself as she gawked at the Art Deco styled lobby of MACUSA. It was a cleverly designed building, and absolutely lovely Hermione thought. Thomas tugged on her hand, laughter and mischief in his eyes as they took off into New York City after having traveled through customs and getting their wand permits for their vacation. They would only be in America for a week, but Hermione was dreadfully excited. They would be visiting Ilvermorny, Thomas having secured a guided tour by the Headmistress. Aside from that, Hermione wasn’t sure.

“What are we going to do?” Hermione asked as they unshrunk their bags at the hotel Thomas had reserved in the heart of Manhattan in New York City.

“Well, there are a few museums with magical wings in the city. And then we’ll be heading to Salem on Thursday, and visit Ilvermorny the next, and then spend time in Boston before leaving their port of customs.” Thomas said with an easy smile. He did truly enjoy Hermione’s company, though he was reluctant to admit it. It’d been easily two decades since he last preferred female company. Not that he didn’t exploit it on a whim, he just hadn’t preferred it. He liked her laugh. He liked the way she moved. Her gesticulations while talking were amusing. She was witty and graceful, the hunted look that’d clung to her was fading. She could hold intelligent conversations with him as easily as Severus, which was a feat in itself. He knew what she looked liked tortured, thanks to Bella Lestrange’s memory. Hermione was never as beautiful as he’d seen her crying and spread out, shuddering under Bella’s ministrations, clearly lying through her teeth. He admired that Hermione still lied under such torture. He would have her loyalty now, as Thomas, and after mid winter, as Voldemort.

“Oh! I’d hoped you’d say that! Which museums did you want to visit first? I have always wanted to visit the American Museum of Natural History! Both sides actually, the muggle wings are told to be as fantastic as the magical wing. A friend, Luna Lovegood, once told me a rumor that Newt Scamander himself ran amuck in there with some magical creatures. I wasn’t sure to believe her at the time.” Hermione burst with energy and excitement. Thomas filed away the information that Hermione considered the Lovegood girl a friend. Information on his beloved was always valuable. Thomas always loved treasure and took good care of his prizes.

They spent the afternoon at the American Museum of Natural History, wandering between the fossils and observing truly magnificent inventions and how important discoveries were made in the Astronomy Throughout the Ages exhibition in the magical wing.

“Can you believe that Galileo actually made that telescope with the time gyroscope to view the immediate future in the stars? His knowledge of the stars and the planets... I mean we still utilize the form he pioneered for Astronomy lessons. Sometimes I do wonder though, with muggles and how their space technology has grown exponentially. I mean, The Americans put men on the moon in 1969! What do you think, Thomas?” Hermione asked over coffee as they wandered Central Park, located across from the museum.

“I think their inventions should be put to use, of course, but how do you propose getting around the issue of magic and electricity? Contact between the two has been historically disastrous. And that’s if wizards even believed what muggles are really capable of.” Thomas responded, sipping thoughtfully. He had wondered how to exploit muggle technology but electricity had continuing difficulty in working after contact with magic.

“Well, I’ve actually been working on that.” Hermione said brightly and Thomas widened his eyes in surprise as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a seemingly plain fieldstone. His sharp eyes caught the shimmer of runes etched magically into the rock, and he was surprised that it was pulsing with a soft bluish white light.

“Haven’t you noticed that nothing has been malfunctioning when we strayed into the muggle world? Usually even on my own things tend to… happen. Two exceptionally powered magical people draw much more attention than we do, Mr. Reynard.” A smile played on Hermione’s lips while Thomas examined her stone intently.

“Is this a magical sink?” He asked, with a little awe.

“Yes! To collect unused potential magic. I wanted it to be like a battery, what muggles use to power electronics. I’ve dabbled a bit in the past, and I think there’s a way to bridge electronics and magic if the magic doesn’t overload the electronics first. And I think it’ll allow me to -- oh well I can’t say.” Hermione’s excitement deflated, realizing she couldn’t share the initial reason for wanting to collect unused potential magic. 

“What do you mean you can’t say?” Thomas looked up at her with a jerk. He thought he had her loyalty by now. She certainly seemed as loyal as she had to her friends she still kept in touch with; he knew she had weekly visits with Ginerva and the Weasley brothers.

“It’s-- it’s family business. I can’t; I’m contractually bound to keep their secrets.” Hermione said with a sigh. She knew that Thomas wouldn’t want to let it rest when there’s something interesting to know with her work. He seemed utterly fascinated by it.

“Can’t you find a way to tell me something?” Thomas asked trying to keep exasperation from his voice. He was aware of the blood curse on the Greengrass family, and that Hermione had been working to lift it. He’d never have guessed to use a magical sink to gather up potential magical energy, neatly diverting energy that would have gone to sustaining the curse. Keeping it on them long enough would eventually break the curse. He had to hand to the witch, she was brilliant.

“I can’t, they’re just as Slytherin as you, Thomas. No loopholes” Hermione laughed before adding with a very sly smile, “And nobody ever would be sane enough to break a contract with me.”

The feeling hit him in the gut, traveling to his groin and heart simultaneously. There was something about that smile that spoke of experience and revenge. Thomas took a breath and asked tentatively, “Why is that, darling?”

“Because they would be permanently disfigured to begin with. And well, self-sustaining curses are a beautiful thing. There are no counter-curses, the curse sustains itself continuously. They’re easy to break when you know how they were crafted, but well, one should be careful with documents they sign, yes?” Hermione said with a smirk, winking. Thomas kissed her soundly, incredibly turned on by her non-committal admittance to creating and using self-sustaining curses without notifying the other party. Wicked. Beautiful. Brilliant. His prize. He was looking forward their week in America.


	10. Ilvermorny

Their week in America was going by far too quickly for Hermione’s liking. She stretched out on the bed they were sharing at a cute little bed and breakfast in Salem, Massachusetts. Her vacation with Thomas so far had been enlightening and passionate. She had suspected he had a much shorter temper with others than with her, and she was proved correct. It wasn’t as if she believed the man had no flaws, but she wasn’t particularly fond of how quick to anger he was. It reminded her too much of Ronald, to be honest, and of the things she didn’t want to remember from their year on the run, including the incredibly sexual dreams she’d had at the time which was just awkward given she shared a tent with two boys. Harry, at least, had been kind enough to not complain about her subconscious. She didn’t complain about the awful night terrors they would have sometimes. She blamed the night terrors on the locket, but her own dreams she chalked up to living in a tent with her crush only to find out that he was ruder than she thought possible, constantly hungry, and didn’t try to help out even when asked. Her subconscious simply had to make up for that.There was so little left of the exuberant boy from Hogwarts she certainly didn’t look at him the same after he returned with Harry and the destroyed locket she still kept with their old Hogwarts things. Ginny and the Twins took care of Ronald’s belongings, but Ginny couldn’t bring herself yet to go through any of Harry’s things. Why was she thinking of these memories she wish would stay buried?

 

Hermione looked over to Thomas, who was staring at her intently.

 

“Good morning, darling.” He kissed her deeply and slowly. Hermione’s insides curled with pleasure. She loved his voice, and she loved waking up to it even more. She had no clue how someone as good looking as him would find her attractive but maybe Fate took pity on her for once and was giving her a good thing. Thomas was everything she wanted in a man; a brilliant mind, a dark and dry sense of humor like her own, and the arse of a fucking god. That way she was never really sad when she watched him leave. Hermione didn’t mind at all.

 

“Good morning, Thomas. What wicked deeds were you thinking about so intently as I rolled over?” Hermione asked, trailing her fingertips down his side.   
  
“Nothing wicked yet, Jean. It’s almost breakfast though, and I know how much you want those waffles.” Thomas responded, lying without effort. To be honest, he had been rifling through her mind, but he had thought she was asleep until Hermione rolled over. So she had bonded enough with the locket to not want to get rid of the remains of the damaged jewelry. Perhaps he’ll have it made anew for her. It was in her possession, he saw, and the ingenious extendable bag she kept it in was easily accessible in her cottage. There were lots of items in there he would greatly treasure, especially the Potter’s heirloom invisibility cloak. Not made by Death, no, made by an apprentice to Merlin. He would need to own that once they were bonded. So soon he thought, as he kissed Hermione again.

 

“Mmm! What are we delaying for then! I want to have those waffles again with their maple syrup. That was so heavenly!” Hermione preened under Thomas’s attention, not actually making any move to get up. Thomas kissed his way down to her belly, and then got up leaving Hermione a little perplexed. She guessed he was rather intent on their day at Ilvermorny, but she wasn’t that obsessed with waffles that they need to rush out of bed. Hermione got up slowly and started her ablutions for the morning. Her hair always more wavy that straight when she woke up, so she needed to renew her glamours in a routine she’d made as Thomas fit himself into her life. She loved how easy it was to be with him, but hated herself for not being able to tell him who she had been, before she was Jean Durand. It was a small hate at first, an annoyance really, but it deepened as she spent more time with Thomas Reynard. She wanted him to know all of her, and love her for it.

 

No matter for how long, Hermione thought with determination as she pulled on the Juicy Couture tracksuit that was supposedly about to be wildly popular, according to one of Thomas’s coworkers at the Palace. She didn’t think it very Hermione, but she guessed as Jean she would wear it. Jean was posh and well dressed, everything Hermione had wished she was when she was herself. Now that she was Jean, she rather missed her curly hair, lack of glamouring and makeup potions. She couldn’t take the chance to relax at home, in case someone would stop by for her hearth witch services. She would simply just be Jean from now on, Hermione sighed softly to herself finishing readying herself for the day.

 

A few hours later, still full of waffles drenched in barrel aged maple syrup, holding hands and laughing, Thomas and Hermione left Salem. Thomas whipped Hermione into a kiss and apparated at the same time-- it was an experience to say the least, one where you’re not sure where you start and your partner ends. They arrived near the gates of Ilvermorny on the misty Mount Greylock. The air was chilled but the earth still warm, the quintessential November morning in Massachusetts with low lying fog. Thomas tapped his wand on the gates, notifying the Headmistress of their arrival. There was a great, wild looking tree in the center of the front courtyard to the school. The great tree’s branches grew everywhere, refusing the taming by groundskeepers. It was utterly magnificent to Hermione, and after polite greetings with the Headmistress, she went up to the tree. It felt familiar to her, like Thomas, and marveled at the unique Snakewood tree with the medicinal leaves as the Headmistress blathered on, Thomas fascinated by her words. 

 

They moved on, but not before Thomas took a detour around the tree. Out of sight for a moment, he pressed his hand to the tree, hissing in Parseltongue, “I am Voldemort, last living descendant of Slytherin. Wake, tree. Wake, wand. Your true owner has come to claim his gift.” As he spoke, a twisted old branch started to grow from between his fingers. At 13 inches, it stopped growing, and Voldemort claimed Salazar Slytherin’s wand. He put the snakewood to sleep in parseltongue and walked over to Hermione and the Headmistress, who were ready to enter the castle.

 

The entire experience was so fascinating to Hermione, who enjoyed their eloquent school song as sung quietly by the Headmistress for her. She felt as if she couldn’t see enough at once. The architecture was similar to that of London, by way of the stonemason muggle who helped found the school with his witch wife, Isolt Sayre and their adopted magical children. Hermione adored the story, a witch running away from terror, falling in love with a muggle who accepted magic, taking in magical orphaned children and willing to exchange the teaching of magic to those who came to their home. Hermione didn’t like the confrontation with the Gaunt witch, the aunt of Isolt Sayre, and her anti-muggle views. She was glad the witch failed in her mission and paid with her life, much like she was glad when she accepted that Bellatrix Lestrange was truly dead. She only wished that Dobby had been able to kill Bellatrix instead that she killed him. Hermione saw parallels between herself and Isolt, and thought her to be a romantic hero of sorts, in addition to her tenacity to get things accomplished-- what Hermione considered her own special trait. Hermione didn’t realize that as Jean, she looked exactly like the statue of Isolt. Thomas smiled at this.

 

“Darling, their sorting takes place in the Entrance Hall, come look!” Thomas tugged on her hand, bringing Hermione back to reality. They entered the hall with the statues of the house guardians-- The Horned Serpent, Thunderbird, Wampus and Pukwudgie. Thomas went up to examine the statues, while Hermione was fascinated by the Gordian Knot of Isolt Sayre’s design. Hermione started to walk across it to talk to Thomas, when the Wampus statue roared, the Horned Serpent bathed Thomas in light, the Thunderbird beat its wings, and the Pukwudgie raised it’s arrow. Thomas had been startled and nearly let his glamour slip, which angered him and he needed to hide that from his witch. For now.

 

“My my Ms Durand, you are of exceptional talent! Very very few witches and wizards are honored by all four houses wanting to educate them. You embody traits each admire most.” The Headmistress said with some surprise.

 

“Nothing but the very best, Jean.” Thomas added, his smile a bit wry. Hermione looked down, embarrassed. 

 

“What house would you choose, Jean?” Thomas asked, slipping on a happier expression.

 

“Oh, goodness. Based on what I’ve read… Horned Serpent. It was Isolt Sayre’s choice for house, was it not? And signifies the mind? I think that is quite… me.” Hermione debated before smiling, her face lighting up. It was Hermione, and it was Jean. She was still herself, even as Jean.

 

“An excellent choice, Ms Durand. Shall we continue?” The Headmistress replied, taking the lead and ushering the pair out of the entrance hall and throughout other parts of the school. Hermione wondered why the school was so empty, and the Headmistress explained that it was an American holiday Thanksgiving, but the magicals treat it more of a period of mourning and gratitude than the no-maj’s that ate lots and forgot about the travesties performed against the tribes that helped Plymouth Colony, where the three of the four founders had hailed from and had good relations with the Wampanoag tribe. The school had activities and workshops this week, on everything from the Wampanoags magical talents and how to wield them, as well as No-Maj Ethics that reflected on Plymouth Colony and also current no-maj/magical tensions. Hermione was very impressed, and they peeked in on a few of the day long workshops that only further impressed her. As much as she loved her Hogwarts days, she felt such a kinship to this school and the founders that she did not have with Hogwarts.

  
  
“This school is absolutely fantastic Thomas. I feel so at home here.” Hermione said wistfully as they were leaving.

  
  
“Please won’t become a teacher and run away to America, Jean?” Thomas turned to face her in the entrance courtyard by the great snakewood tree.

 

“Are you concerned, Thomas?” Hermione flirted.

 

“Perhaps a bit. I… I love you Jean. I want you to stay with me.” Thomas confessed, holding her hands. It may have been an exact copy from Draco’s memories with Astoria, but Hermione was bowled over.

 

“I love you too, Thomas.” Hermione smiled as her eyes started to tear in happiness. He kissed her, slipped his arm around her, and they walked to the gates.


End file.
